Disposable Heroes
by Mrs.Monster
Summary: Hunter Bella Swan meets Dean Winchester in a dirty roadhouse in Sioux Falls, South Dakota when all she was looking for was a burger and a beer. One shot set in S4 of SPN and post-NM of the Twilight-verse.


**Disclaimer****: **I own nothing related to Supernatural or Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.

**Word Count:**

**Author's Note:** Hey kiddos. Random crossovers seem to be my thing lately, eh? This will remain a one-shot, unfortunately. The last thing that I need is yet another full-length story. Basically this is just something quick and fun. You know; wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. Featuring hunter!Bella and hunter!Jasper.

Anyway, facers, enjoy. Drop me a review. Much love.

-Mrs. Monster

**Disposable Heroes**

_-B-_

We were in South Dakota, near Sioux Falls. Jasper and I had parted ways at the motel, he'd gone hunting, and I was in search of a hamburger and a beer. A roadhouse sign buzzed neon up ahead, and I flicked on the Delorian's blinker, pulling into the gravel parking lot.

The Delorian. Jasper thought it was hilarious and went a little over board with the Doc Brown impersonations, even going to far as to buy me an orange life-preserver for my birthday last year that was remarkably like Marty McFly's. Jerk. He'd pouted like I'd kicked his puppy when I refused to wear it. I'd gotten used to driving the damn thing, though, and didn't even blush anymore when people would stare as the door flew up when I got out.

The air in the bar was thick with smoke, but I'd grown used to that after nearly two years on the road. I took a place in one of the booths that lined the room, and placed my order with a waitress named Patti. A few minutes later, I was taking a pull from a long-neck Bud, and feeling better.

It'd been a fuck of a long week, and a low-level demon had managed to land a lucky blow, leaving me with a long, nasty burn down my back. It was slathered in a thick gooey paste that Carlisle had provided me, and covered with gauze. The burn was slowly healing, but still hurt if I put too much pressure on that area of my back, so I sat hunched forward, trying to will my muscles to relax.

Before I knew it, there was nothing but suds left in my bottle, and Patti the waitress was there with my burger and another beer. I sat up, crossing my legs under me, and bit into the burger, groaning. It'd been a few days since I'd had real food, and after a while granola bars and midget bags of chips just didn't cut it anymore. Loaded up with lettuce, tomato, onions and enough ketchup to drown in, it was the best burger I'd ever had. Or so it seemed at the moment.

I'd finished my burger and was working my way through my third bottle of Bud when he came to my table. Taller than me, probably right around six feet with a stocky build, sandy hair styled with what was supposed to look like casual disinterest but probably took just enough time to be laughable. A definitely handsome face with a strong jaw line and a full, almost womanly mouth. He wore a Cheap Trick t-shirt and a leather jacket, and I felt a twinge from my long-neglected libido.

"Excuse me, miss? There seems to be something wrong with my phone..." he pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of his faded jeans and flicked it open. I set down my bottle, and rested my chin on my fist.

"Really? And what's wrong with it?" He flashed me a grin.

"Your number's not in it." Cue face connecting with my palm.

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him through my fingers and hair. "That's the best you can do?" He shrugged, grin never-fading.

"Hardly. Can I join you?" I brushed my hair back, and gestured for him to sit. He slid in the booth across from me, and signaled Patti the waitress. "Another Bed? I mean Bud?"

"Sure."

He took a long pull from his bottle, and I couldn't help but notice the way his throat worked as he swallowed. Setting the bottle down with a _clunk_, he grinned over the table at me.

"Dean Cantrell," introduced himself.

"Like Jerry Cantrell? I'm a big Alice in Chains girl."

His smile grew wider, and I extended my hand toward him. "Bella Swan."

Dean took my hand, shook it once and leaned back, throwing his arm over the back of his seat.

"What brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this?" Dean asked, and I had to give him credit; the guy really got an A for effort.

Patti brought another round to our table, and I gestured with my bottle. "Beer. It's been a long week. Or did you mean Sioux Falls in general? I had a... freelance job here."

_-D-_

The girl across from me was smoking hot. Wide brown eyes above a slim nose spattered with freckles and a heart-shaped mouth that I was desperately hoping I'd get to take for a test drive. Her dark hair was long and straight down her back, and as she slid slowly out of her thin brown leather jacket I noticed that a black tank top molded perfectly to a set of tits that, even if they were on the small side, sure were perky.

"What kind of freelance job?"

"Uh... photography. I take pictures of... rocks." She busied herself with her long neck bottle, and I could tell that she was lying. My eyes narrowed and my mind whirred with possibilities.

"What about you? What brings you here?"

"I have a... friend that lives nearby. Visiting him for a while, needed to blow off some steam." She gave me a shrewd look of her own, trying to decide if I was telling the truth, which I was. Mostly.

Sammy and I were here staying with Bobby for a while, trying to figure out who'd pulled me from the Pit. Sam and Bobby thought that they already had the answer, but I couldn't be so quick to get behind it.

After what'd happened with Pamela during the séance, and my genius idea to summon the thing that had burned her eyes out, we'd hauled ass back to Bobby's place. Days and days of pouring over books, ancient writings that Bobby'd somehow gotten his hands on, and I needed a break. A breather, a beer, and maybe a girl. And it looked like I'd be lucky enough to land all three tonight. Sure, the girl in the black tank top and tight jeans may have been lying about what she was doing in Sioux Falls, but as long as she wasn't a demon, or a shifter or any other type of creepy crawly, I was fully on board with this love train.

Bella finished her beer, foam clinging to her bottom lip and twirled the empty bottle in her hands. The shrewd, searching glare was gone, replaced by something _else_ as she leaned slightly forward. "Wanna go fool around?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

_-B-_

When I woke up in our hotel room the next morning, Jasper was coming out of the bathroom, a billowing cloud of steam chasing him. His eyes were a rich amber color, meaning that his hunt the night before had been successful. When put that way, I guess my hunt went pretty damn well too. Dean and I had gone a few rounds in the Delorian, after I threatened to call the thing off when he laughed at my car. The first time, we didn't make it past the front passenger seat. Round two was a little awkward in the cramped backseat, but we made it work.

From the look Jasper was giving me, I could tell that he knew what I'd gotten up to the night before, and I gave him an unabashed grin.

"Have fun last night?"

"Oh yeah," I answered, stretching before sitting up.

"How's the back?" Jasper asked, moving toward me, gesturing for me to turn around.

I sat indian-style facing the headboard, and hiked my shirt up my back, letting him peel away the gauze bandages. Those had been a bit hard to explain last night, but I'd finally just told Dean that I'd taken a tumble, trying to climb a tree to get a good shot.

"It's looking pretty good," he said; voice a slow, accented rumble. "Another day with that paste Carlisle sent us, and you'll be just fine. It's gonna leave an impressive scar, though." He pushed off the bed, and I whipped my shirt over my head, knowing that he was getting the jar of ointment.

I was comfortable around Jasper like this, and he'd seen plenty more in the few years we'd been on the road together, living in sleazy motel rooms and sometimes out of the car. We were funded by Carlisle and Esme in money, information, medical supplies and a home, should we want one. But going back to Forks was impossible, and Jasper could barely bring himself to visit any of the Cullen homes he and Alice had lived in together.

Two and a half years ago, Jasper's brother Edward had broken my heart and left me because he thought that I wasn't good enough for him. I'd reacted... severely; a deep depression had taken over completely. So deep that it wasn't natural, and I hadn't snapped out of it for months, thinking that he would come back to me.

Until a group of demons came to Forks.

Part of the Cullen family, Carlisle and Esme, Jasper and Alice, had returned only a few weeks before they came and tore our world apart. The Cullens had come and tried to reconcile, but my anguish turned to anger and I refused to let them in.

Then a demon had possessed my father. I could still remember the flat, empty black of his eyes and how he'd laughed as he tried to kill me. In self-defense, I'd shot him in the head with his service revolver and had immediately fled the scene. I had gone to the only ones that could understand.

But the Cullens had tragedy of their own. Charlie hadn't been the only one taken; a demon had somehow crawled its way into Alice. The only way that we could figure it was that even though her body was long dead, the demon could still feed on her soul and inhabit the petrified flesh. She'd tried to kill all of them, managing to rip Esme's arms off and one of Jasper's legs before Carlisle had decapitated her.

We thought that she would be alright; after her head had been removed, clouds of black smoke had billowed from her mouth and the demon seemed to be gone. But Alice was never the same. When she was human, Alice had been put in a sanatorium by her parents; we thought because of her visions that had later manifested itself as her gift when she'd been made a vampire. I believe, though, that Alice's problems had been more severe than just the visions, and demonic possession had brought all of that back to the forefront of her mind. She couldn't handle it.

Their daily life, her visions, _living_.

Jasper had watched his wife burn, too late to pull her out of the bonfire she'd made of her own limbs and venom.

It had changed something in him; he'd loved Alice more than _anything_. Instead of channeling his loss though despair, Jasper turned vengeful. If he couldn't kill the demon that had possessed Alice, he would kill as many as he could find.

We learned of the warrant for my arrest while we'd been staying in Alaska, where we'd fled trying to restore Alice to her former mind frame. Wanted for the murder of my father. I couldn't very well go to the police and tell them that he'd been possessed by a black cloud of smoke that turned out to be a demon.

After Alice died, Jasper and I went on the road. At first just hunting demons, and when we'd learned that practically all the monsters we'd ever heard of were real, we hunted them too. Most of the time I used fake last names, and we had a plethora of fake I.D.'s for just about every organization that could be imagined, thanks to Jasper and his man Jenks.

It had been rocky at first, Jasper was so gun-ho going for demon after demon, never mind that I was just human and completely untrained in... everything. But after a while, he slowed down, and taught me a few things about fighting and self-defense. I already knew, thanks to Charlie, how to load, shoot, clean and maintain a gun, and over the years picked up other skills through trial and error.

Life wasn't easy, and sometimes I actually longed for the awkward years of high school, but Jasper and I did what we felt we had to. To try to save as many other people from the heartache we'd experienced as we could. I was still a wanted fugitive, and Jasper still had his moments of weakness when it came to my blood and he'd gone too long between hunts, but we made it work.

Jasper smeared burn cream along my back and taped fresh gauze over the wound. I pushed off the bed and fished clean clothes out of my bag. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I stripped out of my sleep pants and eyed the beard-burn on my neck and chest. It was uncomfortable as hell now, but last night in the heat of it, it had felt damn good. The entire night had been a good one; I'd been able to relax and enjoy my time with Dean. After, there had been none of the nightmares that usually plagued me, images of that demon riding my father's flesh, trying to strangle the life out of me, pressed against the fridge in our kitchen. Myself pulling the trigger, bullet tearing through his right eye, blood, bone and brain matter splattering against the white wall behind him.

Last night's sleep had been peaceful and deep.

I pulled on clean clothes, washed my face, brushed my teeth and combed through the tangle of my hair. My heart set on breakfast, I gathered my stuff from the hotel room, threw it in the back of the Delorian and slid behind the wheel. Jasper was already in the passenger's seat, and his nose was scrunched up when he looked over at me.

"It reeks of sex in here."

"Yep."

"You had sex in the car."

"Yep."

"In my seat."

"Yep."

"You suck."

"Yep, I did."

"God, Bella. If Edward could see you now, he'd faint under the weight of his moral offense."

I gave him a one shoulder shrug, and turned the key to fire up the car.

Nothing happened but a small click.

"Son of a _bitch_."

_-D-_

I was nursing a headache as I worked my way through a cup of coffee sitting at the table in Bobby's kitchen. Not much sleep was to be had last night, between the memories of my time in the Pit, and all of this new bullshit with _angels_, I hadn't been able to relax enough to nod off. I'd passed a few pleasurable hours with Bella in her ridiculous, small (and ridiculously small) car, and I knew I'd keep those memories in my spank bank for a while to come.

I thought that she was going to call the thing off when I'd said, "I'm not sure which one is a tighter fit: this car, or your pussy."

At the time, it had been great, but now it was fading. The heaviness was back on me, settling around my neck and over my shoulders.

One of the phones mounted along the kitchen wall began screaming at me, and I just glared at it until Bobby stormed into the room in his boxer shorts and trucker cap to answer it.

"Singer Salvage, what the hell do you want?"

I snatched up my coffee and carried it into the living room where Sam was still sprawled with his pillow and blanket on the floor. A few minutes later, Bobby shuffled in.

"Tow truck's gonna be bringin' a car out here in a while, guy and girl need to get their car fixed but can't find anyone to take it."

"So... you're gonna do it?" I asked him. Bobby ran a scrap yard, not an auto shop.

"Hell no. Guy knows what's wrong with it, but he ain't got tools. Gonna pull it in the garage, do what needs done and pay me a chunk of change to do it."

"And?" I could tell there was something else.

"I want you to keep an eye on 'em. Me and Sam are gonna hit the books again."

I was almost grateful that he was giving me more time away from the research; as much as I wanted to figure out what in the hell was going on, I was going to flip my shit if I had to read another word in the next twenty-four hours.

"Sure thing, Bobby."

Still in his underwear, which if it wasn't a sight I was use to may have permanently scarred me, Bobby nudged Sam awake. They shambled off for coffee and clothes before shutting themselves back up in the den with their books.

By the time I heard the tow truck rumbling down Bobby's dirt drive I'd managed a shower and three more cups of coffee, headache only a dull throb in the back of my skull. I stepped out into the warm but overcast day; it looked like there was a filter set over the day and I was seeing everything in sepia. Like one of the old pictures of Bobby's long-dead parents and grandparents that I'd found in the attic years ago. The tow truck was old and rusting and red, pulling a very familiar Delorian.

No friggin' way.

It couldn't be her.

Who else would be driving a damn _Delorian,_ though?

Bella hopped out of the cab of the tow truck after a guy with curly blonde hair, and I couldn't help but feel my hackles rise. Had I been _the other guy _last night? Well, that just made me feel kind of dirty all over.

The truck pulled the car toward the garage, and Bella and her mystery _boyfriend _ambled to the house. Hands shoved in the pockets of her tight jeans, Bella was watching her boots as she walked and so she hadn't seen me yet. I leaned against one of the posts that held up the overhanging roof of Bobby's front porch, crossed my arms across my chest and waited.

_-B-_

Of all the bad luck that had ever come my way, this had to be the worst. Well, maybe not. It was certainly in the top twenty, though. Car decides that it's not going to start and we can't find a mechanic open on a Sunday. Then we find a place and Jasper works out a deal and when we arrive, my random ride from the night before is standing on the front porch, glaring a hold through my best friend's head.

I know what it looks like. Of course I know what it looks like. Did I know what to do about it? Naturally not. So I just stood there, scuffing my boots into the dirt yard in front of the porch, feeling the awkward tension flourish like dandelions in summer time. That was until I felt Jasper slide way into my personal space, slip an arm around my waist and haul me against his hard body. I'd been utterly unprepared and so I was practically plastered to the side of his body. Jasper's hand slipped down my side and around to my ass; he was projecting smug satisfaction and when my head snapped up to glare at him, he was smirking at Dean.

_Oh_. That asshole. He was able to feel Dean's jealously, and would have been more than able to smell that Dean was the one that I'd allowed to see my holy place last night. This was his payback for fucking a stranger in his spot.

Two-handed I shoved his chest and yelled, "Bad touching, Jasper! Bad touching!" He let me go with a laugh and I was halfway kicking him in the leg before I reconsidered and decided that I didn't feel like bending my steel-toes. I liked these boots. Other than a raised eyebrow, Dean's expression hadn't changed. I cleared my throat and shot Jasper another glare. My friend took a few steps toward Dean who finally came down off the porch. Dean's expression became more intense when he and Jasper shook hands and I could tell that he sensed something off about him.

"Jasper Whitlock," my partner introduced himself. "I spoke to someone named Bobby on the phone about using his tools and garage."

"This way," Dean practically growled.

I watched them disappear around the side of the house and assumed that they were headed toward the large white metal garage the tow truck had pulled our car. With a heavy sigh, I sank down onto the worn wooden steps that lead up to the porch. It was only a few minutes later that I heard Dean coming back.

"Your boyfriend's really freaking weird," he said, stopping about a foot in front of me.

"Jasper is _not _my boyfriend," I told him, leaning back on my elbows. "But yeah. He is."

We're quiet for a moment, and then, "So… _not _your boyfriend?"

I can't hide my smirk. "You were jealous."

"Was not. You don't know that. You don't even know me."

"_That's _the truth."

We're both grinning. "You want some pudding while your buddy's fixing the car?"

Sitting up, I say, "Is that a euphemism or something? Because I have to tell you, while I wouldn't mind another go I'm not sure now is the most opportune time, Dean."

He laughs, flashing even, white teeth against tanned skin. "No. Just butterscotch."


End file.
